Wh40k: Wings
by DodgeStreaker
Summary: Sanguinius takes some time to reflect on his past and what it means for him to hold the title of the "Great Angel". But above all that, he reflects on the once thought curse of a blessing of what it means to have the natural ability of flight - Disclaimer: Warhammer 40k (c) Games Workshop


**A/N: I love Sanguinius, truly I do. But than again, who really doesn't?**

* * *

Long before Sanguinius even had the pleasure of meeting his father, the well renowned Emperor of Mankind, he had held a great deal of spite towards the mutation of his own psychical manifestation. His wings. Aside from his rapid growth in childhood and his unnatural height and build compared to the smaller, more frail humans who resided on the radiated desert moon of Baal Secundus alongside him, the fact that he was an abomination of nature was more clear than he would like. It was even due to this accursed anomaly of his that had nearly gotten him killed by the tribe who had initially found him in a strange pod out in the more radiated parts of the sandy riptides when he was just an infant. Though he could never decide if he would consider himself lucky to have been spared and adopted into the tribes of the Pure Blood or not until the day he had met the Emperor.

However, due to a single course of action that had taken place during a high point in his early life, he had to learn to grow accustom to the folk of other tribes openly addressing him as 'The Angel' after he had single-handedly fended off a horde of mutants with his bare hands who had dared threatened to overrun and kill all within his tribe. It was only after that battle did his wings go from a symbol of 'outsider' and 'abominable creature' to a well respected emblem that represented a powerful, selfless and valiant warrior who was unafraid of death. And swiftly he had been turned into an almost worshipped figure within the Conclave as well, though he heavily disagreed with the notion.

Though left unknown to his own people and the leaders and kinsmen of his allies, he was unable to take flight; or at least he was unsuccessful at taking _true_ flight. Never was he able to soar very high or for very long, it was as if his own body was rejecting his mutation as well, as if he just unable to endure the weight of his own curse and it kept him grounded rather than allowing him to take to the skies like others claimed he could. Many times he had thought to have them cut off or do something thing would permanently rid them from his anatomy, but each time he tried to find the courage of speaking his troubles to the tribe's healers, he shuddered and shied away from the pain he would have to suffer through during the removal process and he was never guaranteed that his body would fully adjust to the loss.

It was truly pitiful. But that all changed the day he met the Emperor.

When he had first come to learn of the wondrous powers, technology and gifts that his father had in his glorious possession, and after the horrid humiliation of his secret of being unable to fly was finally known to him and his brother, Horus. Sanguinius gave nothing but fear filled pleas to his father to have the wretched taint removed from his body, for he recalled from their initial meeting that they had not been expecting the mutation and that fact only brought him further shame. However, much to the 'Angel's' dismay, his golden procreator had dismissed his pleas and Sanguinius went to weep in the solitude of his provided quarters. Though, unsure if it were out of pity or true love and for the care of his well being, his father was quick to reassure him that-though not originally intended-his wings would become a great aspect of his being in the coming future so long as he allowed him to make it so.

Though being left unsure as to _what_ that meant or what exactly his father had in mind, Sanguinius found himself in a position in which he could only comply, as the Emperor had only granted him the knowledge of the basic details and stated that the rest would be a surprise. And though he wasn't sure that he was too fond of the idea of it being kept a secret from him, for some reason he felt nothing but _trust_ for the man who had just found him after so many years of living on this red, dusty rock.

Upon their arrival to the planet that had formally been introduced to him as Terra, Sanguinius had been given a full Terran week to get settled as his father set off to prepare whatever it was that he had in store for him and his wings. And much like their time travelling to their destination, the winged Primarch had spent most of his time with Horus. It seemed natural for him to do so, for when the Emperor was busied with business regarding the Imperium, Horus was always there to keep him company, and he was greatly thankful that he was not left alone in this new and strange environment. However, against his own thoughts, the week he had been given to settle had passed much quicker than he had originally anticipated and soon the morning came where Sanguinius had found himself in a large, white plastered and sterilized room known as an Apothecarion. Assured he would feel no pain during the process, the 'Angel' agreed and he was effectively put under.

* * *

"Have you ever flown before, Sang?" Horus was the first person he had met to openly ask him this question and it made him smile slightly at the innocent yet polite invasion upon his privacy. He didn't mind it, really. Especially with the bond he and Lupercal had formed in their time together, he very much doubted there was any question that Horus could ever ask that would make Sanguinius avoid him in any way.

"Never," he answered with a slight shake of his head, looking around from where they stood by the edge of a cliff that loomed over a large and somewhat shallow body of water that provided safety for them below. The feathers of his wings were a bit ruffled as the wind blew, but he easily reset their alignment with a gentle pat down using his hands. "Well...Not real flight anyways. I've hovered a few times, but I could never support myself for very long."

Remaining silent about the matter, Horus could easily tell that his brother was not mentally prepared for the challenge that was ahead of him. Flight for the first time and no one really being able to hold his hand through it? Now that was a frightening thought. However, that was not the only sign of nervousness that seeped from his sibling, his spastic chatter and even the slight twitching of his wings that had occurred during the ride to get here gave it all away. Not to mention Sanguinius had barely even been able to stomach down breakfast that morning too. Though Horus did manage to calm him a bit, telling him that if he were to fall he would be right there for him. There was _nothing_ to fear.

Finally gathering up what seemed like a false sense of courage, he jumped. Wings unfurling from behind him they spread out to full length in a matter of seconds that almost seemed like a crucial moment between life and death; but as they spread he was easily lifted up into the windy air and the sudden breeze nearly flipped him out of control. Taken aback as to just how much control he really had he decided to test out some simple and easy maneuvers that had been explained to him in a book provided to him from the Apothecary who treated him for rehabilitation. Dipping the tips of his wings he tested out his directory course, though he did his best to stay over the body of water just in case. Back on the ridge he could hear and see Horus shouting and waving to him and he did his best to wave back without breaking his concentration.

Honestly, he couldn't believe that this was happening. He was really flying! A feat he never thought he would be able to achieve at any point in his life. But he was doing it now and it felt more natural than anything else in his entire life. He was thankful that his father had pushed him towards this, even if he hadn't told him to the full extent of what he meant before the process had been completed.

However, against the luck he's had thus far and all the wishes he never thought would come true, his wondrous flight was short lived. Lasting no longer than a little under a minute before his wings suddenly gave out from fatigue and he plummeted down into the water without even a hint of grace, like an bird shot out of the sky. As he crashed through the barrier and into the cold liquid that caught him he felt himself sinking a bit, but the ground wasn't too far from his touch and the next thing he recalled was Horus bringing him back above the surface where he gasped and sputtered for air. His thoughts were hazy and his body felt heavy from the sudden giving out and the coldness that wormed its way inside him through his skin and feathers.

Deciding it was the best course of action, he retired himself from flying for the rest of the day while Horus looked around for a better place for him practice. It was only due to their sudden and unexpected arrival of returning early was Sanguinius informed that his body wasn't quite used to the idea and ability of flight yet and that it would require a lot of training for him to last longer than a few minutes out in the skies. Encouraged by the fact that this was simply another stepping stone on the road to success, the Angel took to heavens every day that would allow him: flying longer, going farther, being unafraid of failure or of falling down into the lake even when Horus had failed to find another suitable place for him to fly.

Nothing made him more happy than having Horus by his side to cheer him on. And it was only by his constant praise and faith in him that allowed him to strive further without fear and to even start flying in power armour as well. Though the dreaded day of when the master of the Luna Wolves had to return to his Legion and carry on with the Great Crusade came much faster than he would have liked, and they had to part ways with tights hugs and promises to stay strong. But the winged Primarch didn't stop when Horus was no longer with him.

Reminiscing back to a fond memory during a lunch break out in the training fields, Horus had commented that Sanguinius looked like the symbol of the Imperium made incarnate. That he was the aquilia made in flesh and blood and here to serve Mankind.

Sanguinius _believed_ him.

* * *

A many successful years have passed by since then, but upon the return to his homeworld everything felt the same, like nothing had changed since he left regardless of the obvious and numerous advancements and alterations to the culture and living of the desert moon. The air still smelled the same, it was acrid, dry and without moisture that breathing through one's mouth could easily lead to heatstroke and dehydration much faster than normal. Even the sun's heat was still the same, blistering hot and to the point that it even burned the sand into rough grains. In truth, he hadn't known what to really expect after returning to Baal's second moon after being away for nearly a decade, but it was the constant nagging of homesickness that had pulled him back to the moon and away from his duties revolving around the Great Crusade.

Perhaps this was even a dream where soon he would wake up back in bed in the solitude of his private quarters aboard the Red Tear as the Gloriana-Class Battleship drifted through the vastness of space or through the colourful travelings of the Warp to their next destination. But if so, his only wish would be allowing him to fully witness this wonderful dream to the very end.

As he walked confidently through the heated weather, the sand beneath his feet shifted accordingly to his steps and snaked by his exposed ankles as a hot but light breeze passed through their location. With him, he was in the company of a small unit of his Sanguinary Guard and the Chapter Master of his Legion, none of them protested as they trudged through the sand to reach a high point that resided near the west side of a low mountain. As they finally approached the top, Sanguinius couldn't help but to smile as he looked over the familiar landscape that was the red sandy land below.

"Raldoron?" The tone of his call was soft, smooth and gentle, representing more of the Primarch's noble side rather than his role as the master of an entire Legion of loyal Astartes. Given a slight bow of respect, the Chapter Master of his Blood Angels stepped forth without a second of hesitation.

"Yes, Sanguinius?" He asked, returning the politeness of tone more out of respect than of habit. Though he was quick to notice that the Great Angel's smile widen to that. The Primarch never was much into formalities and it was obvious that he was pleased that Raldoron had remember that fact.

"Have you ever been witness to me taking flight?"

"No."

"Then today you shall." Turning he launched himself into the air, wing unfurling as he did a favor spiral motion of his that took him higher into the sky. As he gained height he looked back down with a smile. Never had he seen an Astartes so stunned with awe before.

Yes. There was not another moment in his life where he regretted his wings after he had met the Emperor.


End file.
